More poems

2009-07-18T23:42:00.000-07:00

The eagle has landed

(yet again) on TV last night,
Looking a lot more graceful than
When I watched the eagle claws clamp
The untouched skin of the moon
On an old black & white television
Squatting above a scarred white fridge
In Newtown 40 years ago.

The screen fluttered like a moth
In the light as those grey robots
Waddled down onto her soft powder,

As we sat around the kitchen table
Smoking bad dope & drinking flat beer
When a voice that could have come
From any one of a hundred
Western movies spoke those words

But the fridge Ommed mysteriously
In deep mechanical sympathy
With the peaceful pitted face of the moon
Who was about to be colonised
By the eagles, who were us -

So tonight I walk outside & look up
To see that lovely lonely disc
Peep around a cloud,
& toast her with blood red wine,
Warning her that we have never been satisfied
With the selfless love of any woman,
However beautiful, however far.

C Rae Desmond Jones

18 July 2009

For Larry Buttrose.

2009-07-09T04:58:00.000-07:00

It comes from all directions

To Garry

the foam on the beerglass rising

before it spills

down your chest, seeking out

your languid generous heart,

that smile on the flabby face of the bouncer

as he knocks the cheeky little bald guy

to the floor then kicks him

in the nuts,

... O yes, you leave, but

that toothless pantsless woman

in the lane lifts her dress as you cruise past

then opens her hollow mouth

& gargles

(as in a vision a 1963 chevrolet creeps

away slowly on stumps bleeding petrol

like a skewered turtle & you drop

a cigarette lighter in the trail

when a wave of crushed glass

rolls towards you melting

as the tarmac rips open to gurgle fire

on smouldering tonsils of

tormented love

C rae desmond jones

Ghazal to the beloved on the last night

In the dark a woman knits across the table,

Her needles click softly & tenderly.

The smell of roses are rich & sweet,

The pulsing blood of moving air.

The old pepper tree shudders & whispers,

A full moon spills silver onto my hands.

Shadow, what do you know?

The sinistral mirror smiles along its crack.

The sparkling stars peck at the clouds,

An angel breathes down my back.

There is no one else in all there is

& our world is alone in its wick of light.

C Rae Desmond Jones

Not Guilty!

Whether you exist or not,

Whether you are a person or

A breath of energy & motion

Shivering an inert mass into time.

Whether you are a brain

Of such complexity that you defy

All rules of reason,

Whether you are matter or fire,

Air or water, or all of the above;

Whether you have siphoned a few drips

of cosmic sperm to create a son

Then willed him to dies horribly

For the insignificant human race;

Whether you have known all

& foresuffered all, whether you are

Not capable of suffering anything,

A God of chaos & physics all at once,

There is only this I know about you,

In your favour: that you are not guilty

Of the things that are done

In your name.

C Rae Desmond Jones